The Legend of the WWE
by Shinneth
Summary: An incredible story begins for the wrestler without a valet as he embarks on a journey to save the integrity and wellbeing of WWE from a corrupt Vincent Kennedy McMahon...


**( Notes:**

**Yeah, it's what you might think it is. World Wrestling Entertainment characters put in the plot element of The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. Cracked up as hell, but it was hilarious when I played through this game for nostalgia's sake and slowly looked at characters with a WWE personality. I realized it was a lot of fun this way and thought it should be totally done. And since the wrestling fandom is mostly full of tearfully-boring romance stories with OCs that nobody really cares about seeing, I thought a well-done parody might suit this place well! And maybe someone else will like it and direct me to some more substantial wrestling fanfiction!**

**MANY wrestlers will be showcased, as Ocarina of Time has a lot of slots to fill. Old and new characters will be present. Bias may or may not be overtly present. Do tell me what you think of it if you have some thoughts to share, though! Because there's more where this came from. I hope it's enjoyable…)  
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Within the World Wrestling Entertainment lies a legend. The company was barren and empty until three particular figures, with their otherworldly powers, founded the basis for the company and brought it life.

Hulk Hogan, the Wrestler of Power…

Bret Hart, the Wrestler of Wisdom…

And Ted DiBiase, the Wrestler of Money…

They were regarded as the Holy Trinity of Wrestling, and through their combined efforts created the golden belt that granted whoever held it a wish; be it for world peace, for riches and fame worldwide, or even chaos and wanton destruction.

But the matter of obtaining the legendary belt, which was named the WWE Title, was all but a puzzle shrouded in mystery. Many wrestlers today traverse through the vast horizons within the WWE, hoping to one day stumble upon the right clue that will earn their way to fame, fortune, and ultimate victory. Going through brutal gimmick matches, highlighting the top-of-the-line pay-per-views, and cutting the most intense promos they can muster, the all-time greats often wondered if such a thing as the WWE Title really even existed. Was it perhaps, just a myth after all?

While various figures within the WWE debated on the matter, there was a closed-off section of the WWE where the attitude was, more-or-less, laid back. A single, simple building surrounded by large trees that created a thick canopy that gave the area a misty, almost fantasy-like look; Ohio Valley Wrestling was the designated area for beginning wrestlers on their path to glory.

Cut off from the rest of society, few in OVW escape the secluded federation alive to tell their story. The strict rules and regulations forbid OVW-aligned wrestlers to leave the sacred valley before they proved themselves worthy of the mother company. And the truth was, evidently, many wrestlers in OVW were content being big fishes in the smaller pond. The small group was close-knit and some weren't as willing as others to part from each other. As it's written, one who leaves OVW can only return if they've proven themselves dishonorably unworthy to remain in the bigger leagues. Therefore, the transition was something of a compromise.

A valet or manager (more often a valet) accompanied each wrestler in OVW. The valet remained by these fresh, young wrestlers as moral support and a confidence booster… as many male wrestlers could sternly admit having more motivation with an attractive woman constantly cheering them on.

However, there was one wrestler in OVW who did not have a valet…

The nights were cold and lonely as this singled-out wrestler shivered in his single-sheet bed. He slept on despite the discomfort, completely unaware how his life was scheduled to change oh-so drastically overnight…

"Stephanie…"

"Stephanie McMahon… where art thou?"

"Come hither… Stephanie McMahon…"

A woman, one who looked easy to irritate, made her way into the office of the General Manager. Already she seemed annoyed, though despite it, knew she was in no position to deny the poor man a request. "_Yes_, Eric Bischoff. You can stop that anytime you like."

"The **Great** Eric Bischoff," Eric Bischoff corrected her, even breaking his tragic character a moment to let her know this addition to his name was serious business. Stephanie only glared at him as OVW's General Manager resumed his fatigued expressions. His hands pressed against his temples, clearly feeling a pain he did everything in his power to hold back. He was the leader of this division, after all. Showing weakness simply wasn't an option, especially not in front of such an impressionable crowd of wrestlers.

In addition to the mysterious problem, Eric Bischoff also glowed with a sickening, black-toned aura. Even Stephanie's rough expressions softened as she realized how dire the situation was now.

"Oh, Stephanie McMahon, heir to the McMahon family… listen to my words, the words of the Great Eric Bischoff," he advised. "Dost thou sense it?"

The director of the creative writing division rolled her eyes; tragedy or not, this was already grating on her nerves. "Sense what, Eric? Another instance of daddy spiking your coffee with a laxative for kicks?"

"No, no!" Eric boomed, almost sounding offended at the assumption. "Though I shant put it past the geezer, putting this fatal curse on me does mine greatness in well enough. But dost thou feel the climate of evil descending upon this company as a whole?"

Stephanie merely shrugged. "We're only in another declining period. What could go wrong?"

"That doth be where thou art mistaken!" Eric insisted. "The Great Eric Bischoff has foreseen it… even now, malevolent forces are mustering to attack our company of World Wrestling Entertainment…"

"Oh! Total Nonstop Action once more?" Stephanie wondered out loud. "They're not even a flesh wound…"

Eric Bischoff solemnly shook his head. "For so long, Ohio Valley Wrestling… where all of wrestling begins… where the all-time greats are born, has stood as a barrier, deterring outsiders and maintaining overall order of the company. But… before this treachery, even my power as OVW's General Manager is as nothing…"

"Why do you think you were demoted in the first place?" Stephanie asked him, hands already on her hips. "You know how daddy feels about you having too much power, Bischoff."

"The **GREAT** Eric Bischoff," Eric once again amended, with even more anger. "As it stands, Stephanie… it seems the time has come for **the****wrestler without a valet** to begin his journey."

The chairman's daughter blinked. Losing favor with her father condemned her to this simple place until she found herself a suitable, worthy potential wrestler to manage. But associating with those so far below her was unbecoming of a McMahon, no matter how estranged from the immediate line. Hence, why she mostly remained with The Great Eric Bischoff; though fallen from grace, at least he notably held rank over the newbies. "Who is that, pray tell?"

Eric Bischoff held up a photograph and presented it to the woman, as he droned on with his miserable speech. "The youth whose destiny it is to lead the WWE to the path of justice and truth… I would like for thou to find him and bring him to me."

Stephanie gawked at the face she recognized in the photo. She couldn't believe it.

Shelton Benjamin! Of all people…

"_He's_ the Golden Boy?" she managed out through her giggling. "You can't be serious."

"I kid thou not," Eric Bischoff assured. "Stephanie… go now! Find our young employee and guide him to me, the **Great** Eric Bischoff… I do not have much time left, you see."

"You mean daddy was serious?" Stephanie inquired, hardly believing it. "Is that why you keep talking like you're in the Dark Ages? Is that a side-effect of the curse?"

Eric merely chuckled out, though weakly. "I talk like this to anger you and feel superior. Which I am, clearly. But in all seriousness, I'm about to die from this gut-wrenching curse, so do me a favor and call Shelton up over here, will you?"

"Uh, okay," Stephanie conceded, but not without reluctance. "I'll go get him now."

"Do not walk, Stephanie! Run! Fly!" Eric Bischoff howled with distress. "The fate of OVW, nay, the entire WWE, depends upon thee…!"

"Oh, shut _up_."

Stephanie McMahon left the Great Eric Bischoff's fancy office and through the chilly hallway which lead into the main area of the building: the training arena, a large, but hot and humid glorified gym that made up the bread and butter of OVW. Along her way to Shelton's quarters, several OVW wrestlers and valets made sure to greet her in some way as she passed by. Many had hoped for a raise, a potential minor title shot, or even a win in a match by getting on Stephanie's good graces, but the honest truth was that Stephanie McMahon… just didn't give a damn.

She wanted out of this hellhole, exit stage left.

Without so much as knocking, Stephanie welcomed herself into Shelton's small and humble residence. There it didn't take long for the McMahon to find the athletic youth sprawled out on his bed, still fast asleep even though the other OVW wrestlers had woken up long before him.

Shelton Benjamin's reputation was something of a double-edged sword in OVW. Despite not having his own valet, the man had an impressive win-loss record for his career so far and his skills were hard to match; he was simply blessed with an advanced athletic prowess. Though some of it factored well into Shelton's tendency to lean on the lazier side of things, not waking up as soon as the other wrestlers and not even training as much as them, a lack of these practices didn't seem to hinder Shelton as much as it would've the others.

Being the only wrestler in OVW without a valet made him a target for ridicule, however, which left Shelton more than socially timid. He was perfectly content staying in his little hut, obsessively playing video games until he was thrown out into practice against his will. Despite his obvious talents, Shelton always seemed a little held back because of these circumstances. But perhaps it made sense why this company-wide threat was his calling. Maybe he just wasn't _meant_ to stew around in this stagnant place forever.

Even considering all that… the most Stephanie was concerned with was getting the next ticket out of this valley. So she walked over to the bed where the young Shelton slept, and pulled out the pillow from under his head. "Good _morning_, Shelton Benjamin!" Stephanie greeted, though the delivery was hardly pleasant. "Or… well, afternoon, actually." She sighed. "Are you for real?"

"Uh… huh…?" Shelton mumbled, still halfway asleep. The lack of a pillow disturbed him a bit, but his eyes remained shut.

"_Hello_, Shelton!" Stephanie repeated, tapping her foot. "If you'd please get your carcass out of bed, the Great Eric Bischoff wants to talk to you!"

"No, mama," Shelton replied, purely dreaming something out. "I don't need seconds… you make the best pancakes…"

Not a light sleeper, apparently. But now Stephanie knew this so-called legacy was little more than a crock of crap. "Can the WWE's destiny really depend on a lazy wrestler like this? I'd sooner depend on Eugene…"

"Who— what, now?"

Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "Are you awake, now?"

Indeed, Shelton had already sat up and was listening intently on Stephanie's vile, pessimistic words. "Ah, yeah… hey, I recognize you. You're the lady who tells us we'll never amount to anything in this business! And that we're all worms…"

"That's _right_," Stephanie confirmed, looking angry as ever. "So you've finally woken up. Well, as you ought to know by now, I am Stephanie McMahon. Please don't tell me you make a habit of oversleeping, Mr. Benjamin."

Shelton shrugged as he stood up, immediately heading for his dressing drawer to pick out his outfit for the day. "I come out when I'm ready, I guess. But I don't normally train as much as the others… doesn't seem to affect my performance much, so I figure there's no harm in taking things easy." He looked to the moody woman looming over him. Suddenly, he seemed concerned. "I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"As much as you might deserve it, the Great Eric Bischoff wishes to see you for… reasons that must be kept confidential," Stephanie explained. "I'm only your escort, so don't go around telling everybody you finally have your own valet. You're still the singled-out freak you always were."

"Aw, that's too bad," Shelton said dejectedly, eyes focused on the floor. After a moment or two of sulking over it, he looked back up at Stephanie. He slowly held up his choice of wardrobe for the day, all balled up to fit in one hand. "Uh, do you mind? I'll come out when I'm done changing."

Stephanie nodded and made her way out the door. "Don't take too long, Mr. Benjamin. We're already losing time."

"Got it!"

Stephanie was outside, impatiently waiting at the entrance of the wrestlers' residential quarters. During this intermission, her eyes gazed to the OVW scenery. Few wrestlers were seen lounging in the rafters, chatting it up with their respective valet, but most were within the four-sided wrestling rings strewn about the area, either performing in matches or training for their big day. So many of them still had that sparkle in their eyes; that sickening hope that they'd one day be talented enough to extend beyond the barriers of OVW and into the real world. And one by one, Stephanie knew they'd all get their hopes crushed and then they'd be as miserable as she and Eric Bischoff were already. Misery loves company, after all… so it wasn't like the former heiress pitied them.

"Here I come!" Shelton announced, coming outside from the roof of the complex rather than the front door. … Wait, the _roof_?

"What the hell are you doing?" Stephanie squawked, partially in disbelief in what was happening. "Get down here this instant, Mr. Benjamin!"

"Get down there?" Shelton grinned. "Already? Well, okay. Might wanna step back a bit…!"

Stephanie shrieked, yet did as he said out of fear. "Oh, you are NOT…! Don't even THINK about it! What are you, crazy? You'll KILL yourself!"

The African-American athlete maintained his confident expressions as he slowly made a few steps backwards, only to propel himself forward at an amazing speed. With one grand leap at the edge, it seemed as if Shelton was in temporary flight as he made a full 180-degree flip and still had the space to land on his feet, gracefully so. Stephanie had covered her eyes and winced during all this, as Shelton had ended up jumping right over her and landed behind the former General Manager.

The next sound heard was a hearty applause, also coming from behind Stephanie. She whirled around not only to find Shelton Benjamin, who briefly looked as surprised as she, but also the most popular wrestler stationed in OVW… the one and only John Cena.

"Bravo, man. Bravo," John congratulated, patting Shelton on the back. "And good afternoon, by the way. How's it hanging?"

Shelton smiled. Of all the wrestlers in OVW, John Cena was the only one who didn't discriminate. In fact, they were something like best friends, those two. Though sometimes it didn't make Shelton comfortable how Cena often seemed to mimic Shelton's cultural heritage even though Cena himself was pale as a ghost, at heart, he was gold. On the mic, John was practically platinum, and it inadvertently made him the pillar of morality and strength amongst the OVW community. The current OVW champion was rarely seen without his ball cap, his title… and his sentimental heirloom, his spinning bling.

"Not much outside of the usual," Shelton told him. "Though I guess Steph O'Mac is here for a reason she won't tell me about…"

"Oh _really_?" Cena's gaze went to the sole female of the trio, and instantly he looked amused. "Wow, Shelton! Unbelievable! Looks like you finally got yourself a manager, homie."

Shelton looked behind him, rather confused. "Really? She said she wasn't like that…"

"Correct," Stephanie agreed. "I'm not here to be his valet, Mr. Cena. I'm here because the Great Eric Bischoff has requested me to escort Mr. Benjamin to his office immediately."

Cena's eyes widened a bit and his mouth was shaped like an 'o'. "That so, huh? Heh, maybe The Great Bisch is thinkin' of calling you up to the mainland, Shelton!"

Shelton's eyes sparkled with anticipation. Though even he knew that sounded way too good to be true… "Oh, you think? But how could I get to leave before you, Cena? You're the defending champ, man. Everyone likes you…"

Stephanie sternly dragged Shelton over to her side. "I recommend not getting your hopes up, Mr. Benjamin," she advised. "Just because you're getting to meet the Great Eric Bischoff does not mean that it's a positive thing."

"Ah, don't listen to her, Shelt," John chided, eyeing Stephanie. "She's clearly getting a visit from Aunt Flo as we speak. She's uh, how you say… our mandatory source of pessimism in this place!"

"That's enough from you, Cena," Stephanie countered. "Keep talking as you are, and I'll see to it that your OVW Championship is forcefully taken off your waist as I book you with your next gimmick."

The grim tone of Stephanie's voice flew right over Shelton's head. "His new gimmick? As what?"

"John Cena: **Jobber 4 Life**."

John didn't look completely phased at the threat, yet protectively put his hands over his title as he nodded a farewell to the pair. "… Well, I understand you all's gotta be somewhere now… so get going, Shelton. Go see the Great Eric Bischoff! I'll be waitin' for you when you get back."

Shelton nodded back as Stephanie proceeded to drag him away by the arm. "Cool, thanks, man…!"

"That's enough," Stephanie ordered, continuing along the way back to the Great Eric Bischoff's office. "If we can help it, Mr. Benjamin, let's not take all day on this. The office is straight ahead, so let's hurry and get this over with…"

"Hey, what's up, guys?" Shelton called out to wrestlers he passed by. "Yeah, I'm doing good. Going to see the Great Eric Bischoff and all. … Yeah, really! Seriously. Hey, it's good seeing you too, Nidia! Oh, what? My own valet? I doubt it… Steph doesn't seem like the type who would lie about that kind of thing, and she was pretty clear when she said…"

"**SHELTON.**"

The rising star's attention refocused back to Stephanie. "Uh… yeah?"

"We're here," Stephanie said, slightly calmer now. She pointed to the large hallway that seemed to go on almost forever. It was chillier and quieter in this area; not a single wrestler was present, though a meager Theodore Long stood right in the middle of the hallway, as if to block the path.

Shelton was less than impressed. "Aw, it's kind of depressing here. Don't tell me you and the Great Eric Bischoff actually spend all your time in a place like this…"

"Some of us have grown up and aren't amused by fun and games," Stephanie explained, moving forward. "Though it can get pretty cold in here… but in OVW, we usually get the mother company's leftovers, so there's not really much that can be done." She snapped her fingers, as if to order Shelton like a dog. "Come on, come on. Time is money."

Shrugging, Shelton moved ahead and inevitably approached Theodore Long. Teddy seemed almost statue-like, not even so much as flinching as Shelton and Stephanie moved towards him, though his eyes focused on the company he was about the encounter.

Stephanie nodded to the shorter man as she passed by, but stopped when she saw Teddy deliberately get in Shelton's way before he could pass.

"Ah, excuse me," Shelton murmured, attempting to edge away past Teddy, but the bespectacled enforcer continued to block his means of getting by. "I… kinda need to get through, man."

There were no intentions of squandering time here, especially not like this; not on Stephanie McMahon's watch. Loud, but firm, she bent down to reach eye level with Teddy Long more easily.

"_What's_ the meaning of this, Mr. Long? We pay you to keep unauthorized personnel out of the executive offices. He's with me, so what makes you think he's unauthorized? Did you forget who I _am_?"

Teddy nodded respectfully, yet remained steady. "No ma'am, I know who you be. Of the McMahon family, that's who! And I don't gotta problem with that, honey, but this boy ain't gettin' past here without the proper stuff, you hear?"

Shelton blinked in confusion. "I need stuff?"

Stephanie was about to protest, but Teddy too quick to explain the situation already. "Dat's right, playa. Just got word back from the Great Bisch himself, he told me _specifically_not to let you through, 'cause you'll at least need a **weapon** or two to properly defend yourself, you feelin' me?"

"A weapon?" Shelton suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He looked to his consort with a mix of fear and frustration. "Just what am I having to do here…?"

"I suddenly wonder that myself," Stephanie muttered, biting her lip. "Well, it was nice of Eric to wait until I was _gone_ to issue this order…"

Teddy just shook his head. "Whatever bidness you got with the Great Bischoff is gonna involve some heavy artillery, believe that. Besides that, man, look at you, Benjamin! No valet or anything. You know they don't consider you a matured wrestler until you get someone on your side, and I'm damn sure that someone ain't Ms. McMahon!"

"Then why was I the one called up?" Shelton weakly protested. "All the other wrestlers have valets… and I'm sure Cena could solve any problem of Bischoff's, I mean… he's _Cena_! What does he want with me, really?"

The Billion Dollar Princess was showing obvious signs of impatience once more. It grated endlessly on her nerves, knowing Bischoff was just sending her on these wild goose chases… "That's confidential information, Mr. Benjamin. And until you comply, you won't be getting any kind of answer from Mr. Long or myself. But rest assured you were chosen for a reason, and if this was a problem we could have subbed Cena for, believe us, we'd do it. Don't take us for fools just because this promotion is weak."

She walked over to Shelton, looking up at him, glaring right into his eyes. "You ought to consider yourself lucky that you haven't been banished yet for your general lack of effort towards growing in OVW. Do this for Eric Bischoff, and you might just live to see the light of day again."

The humble Shelton quickly shied from Stephanie's intensity, but overall, he looked quite obedient. "All right, all right… you got me… so what is it I have to get to see Bischoff?"

Teddy pondered this for a moment. "Well, I'd say a **trash can lid** oughta be a nice **shield** for you, but it's not gonna last long as a real weapon. For something **offensive**, a good pair of **brass knuckles** would suit a beginner like you. So yeah, come back with a **trash can lid** and some **brass knucks**, and you'll be in bidness with the Bisch. So get to steppin'! Holla holla!"

Shelton bowed to the energetic, small man as thanks before turning around and making his way back to the general training area. Stephanie was quick to follow him, not in the least bit pleased. "It doesn't take much to kill your resolve, does it?"

"Heh," Shelton laughed half-heartedly. "I know better than to cross the boss. Not like a lot of these jokers… but… where am I supposed to find what I need, Steph? If this were ECW, it'd be no problem, but this place is _legitimate_ wrestling."

"Just because it's legitimate wrestling doesn't mean the use of foreign objects is unheard of," Stephanie informed. "Also, I'd appreciate you not getting informal with me, Mr. Benjamin. After we get what you need, you're on your own."

Shelton scratched his head, embarrassed that his casual friendliness slipped out to such an important and powerful person. "Eheh, sorry about that. Well, since you're willing to help me out, you have any ideas where we'd get a trash can lid and brass knucks?"

"Don't look now," Stephanie said. "But your good buddy **Cena** is coming right for us. He ought to have some answers for us…"

"Oh! Hey!" Shelton waved out to Cena happily. "What's up?"

"Didn't expect to see you back so soon, dawg!" Cena shouted, pounding his fist against Shelton's. "So how was it? How's His Greatness on this fine day of wrestling?"

Shelton shrugged. "I wouldn't know, I haven't seen him yet. Teddy Long won't let me through until I get some equipment. Maybe you can help me out…?"

"Whaaaat?" Cena couldn't believe it. He almost certainly thought it was BS. "T. Lo won't let you see the Great Eric Bischoff? Man, what a rip. What's he makin' you find?"

Stephanie interjected. "An aluminum trash can lid and a pair of brass knuckles. You seem to be friends with pretty much everybody here, Mr. Cena. I'm sure you can give your friend some inside information so we can hurry and get this meeting underway."

"Steph O'Mac, why in a hurry?" Cena inquired. "Stop and smell the flowers once in a while, live the life, enjoy the joy!"

"Time flies by when you're having fun," Stephanie countered. "And we don't exactly have time to squander. Listen, are you going to cooperate, or am I going to have to vacate your title?"

"Whoa, _easy_!" Cena defensively put a hand over his belt, put-off by the threat. "No need to resort to extremes, I was just yankin' your chain… okay, so you said a trash can lid and brass knucks? Well…" Cena pointed out over the horizon. "There's plenty of trashcans all over the building. You could snatch one when the janitors look the other way, but the honest way can't hurt either. Give 'em money to replace the lid, and they won't have no problem at all handing one over to you."

Shelton was a little perplexed. "That's, uh… kind of weird. But I guess you know what you're talking about…"

"Trust me," Cena assured. "Heels make the deals between these guys all the time so they can sneak their stuff under the ring, just so they can pull 'em back out at the right time during their matches to get cheap wins. It's a pretty lucrative business the janitors got, but it's basically run on a trust-based system. You snitch their stuff without sayin' so, and they'll remember your face and karma'll bite you in the ass later on. And Shelton, you don't wanna wake up findin' yourself wallowing in garbage covering your room, oh you _don't_."

"You speak from experience, don't you?" Stephanie slyly asked.

Cena offered a cheeky grin in return. "What can I say? Being a wrestler is a growing experience! And you learn the ropes the hard way when you're young; that's how you get that tough wrestler's skin."

Shelton smiled and nodded, understanding. "I'll keep that in mind, John. So how do I find brass knucks?"

"That…" Cena twisted his face a bit. "That'll be a little more difficult. Stuff like that ain't easy to come by if you're not ECW. There's one pair I know of hidden somewhere deep in OVW, but no one knows where. It's kinda a legend, a myth… something like that. They say it's William Regal's first pair that he ever used in the ring… so you know they gotta be special."

"Too bad Regal advanced from OVW decades ago," Shelton grumbled. "So I guess I gotta find them myself, huh?"

John Cena saluted to his friend. "What's an adventure without a hunt? Still, can't hurt to ask some of the other wrestlers around here. You definitely ain't the only one who's ever wanted to find 'em. At least you can figure out where they _aren't_ at, and then you can work from there!"

Stephanie sighed. "That sounds cumbersome, but Bischoff won't see us until we find them, so I don't suppose we've got a choice."

Shelton's eyes were now glued to his feet. "The other wrestlers make fun of me for not having a valet, though. What if they don't want to tell me?"

Cena laughed out loud. "Did you forget who's standing _right next_ to you?" He gestured to Stephanie, who merely rolled her eyes. "She'll make any schmuck cough up whatever they know because she's a McMahon, dude! The world's your oyster right now, so use what you got to your advantage!"

"You got a good point there," Shelton remarked, looking briefly at Stephanie. "Well, thanks for the help, man. You're always coming through for me…"

"Just helpin' a boy become a man in his journey," Cena insisted. "We'll just ignore the fact that you're a couple years older than me. Go forth and conquer, Mr. Benjamin!" He laughed heartily as he walked off to join a training session. "I'll be expecting you back, so give it your all! Make OVW proud!"

"I will," Shelton called out, though deep down he wondered if he could keep the promise. Despite his natural athleticism, the disdain others projected towards him always left him with some unreasonable doubts of his own ability. He jumped up a little when he felt Stephanie's hand quickly fall on his shoulder, grasping it as she moved ahead.

"On with it," she ordered, ever-annoyed. "Bischoff can't wait forever for you."

The way Stephanie sounded upon saying that made Shelton wonder just how important was this task was. Why Eric Bischoff needed it accomplished with such haste… OVW was notoriously a federation known for being laid-back and slow-moving. Isolated from the outside world, there was really no point in rushing. But Stephanie was doing that double-time today, which left the young wrestler with more and more unanswered questions.

But his questions would not be met with answers until he did what was asked of him. Shelton looked at the entire roster of superstars-to-be training before his very eyes, knowing the only way to move forward was to conquer his own setbacks and flaws, one at a time.

Now it was just a matter of who to chat with first.

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_( To be continued... )  
_


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